


An Evening's Activities

by sattsuma



Series: Kichi & Yasunosuke [2]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Forced Prostitution, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, M/M, Porn With Plot, Sexual Harassment, Sexual Roleplay, Victim Blaming, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 09:07:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18797275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sattsuma/pseuds/sattsuma
Summary: Kichi endeavors to redeem himself.Follow-up to my Nonconathon 2018 treat, "The Way of Things".





	An Evening's Activities

**Author's Note:**

> ...So, surprise! More of this! I wasn't intending to make a series when I wrote The Way of Things last year, but ideas kept popping into my head, and once again, here we are. 
> 
> This was kind of tough to tag because the main characters are adults, and the featured sex scene is basically consensual, but rape and underage sexual exploitation loom very large over everything that happens. If you've read The Way of Things you'll hopefully understand what I mean, and if you haven't, I honestly don't really recommend reading this story because it'll probably make exactly 0 sense.
> 
> I didn't think it was major enough to tag, but this story also includes a character contemplating suicide very briefly, including very brief discussion of methods. It's there and gone in just a few sentences, but just FYI.

It would be autumn soon, but the air was still warm and heavy as a thick blanket, even in the evening. The windows of the Fuji pleasure house had been left open, and Kichi was grateful for it, though it made only the smallest difference.

The lantern Kichi had lit some time earlier would be growing dim soon, and the drink and refreshments were mostly gone, but the bedding that he had prepared on the floor was barely disturbed, and if Kichi or his guest had loosened their clothing any, it was only in an attempt to get some relief from the heat

Tonight he was keeping company with a man well known to the house, the leader of a local band of criminals who was an acquaintance of the Master as well as a regular client. The man was advanced in years, and his appetite for pleasures of the flesh had dampened somewhat – another thing for Kichi to be grateful for, perhaps, on this evening when even the sensation of his own clothing against his skin felt unpleasantly stifling. The man had lost none of his enthusiasm for drink, though, nor for the pipe that he puffed on even as it sent him into fits of coughing, nor for idle chatter.

“You…“ The guest pointed at Kichi, amusement and drunkenness making his hand unsteady. “Who are you? I asked for one of the youths of this house, and they send me a scarecrow!” He chuckled at his own joke, before turning his attention back to the long pipe he held in his free hand.

Kichi ducked his head demurely. There was no need for any acknowledgement beyond that. The guest was well aware of Kichi’s current circumstances, and even his jokes had been repeated plenty of times by now. Kichi had wondered for a moment, earlier, if the Master had arranged this meeting purposefully as an additional punishment.

But no, he did not think that the Master gave him that much thought. If anything, it was more likely that Kichi had been given this task because the guest was familiar and easily pleased, and would be forgiving of Kichi’s appearance.

Two months had passed since Kichi had earned the greatest punishment he had ever received in some twelve years at the house. Things had settled down considerably in that time, but it would be much longer before Kichi’s hair would grow back to the length it had once been. At present, it was just long enough to annoy, and yet nowhere near long enough to be arranged in any kind of orderly manner. Even the crown of Kichi’s head, shaved for as long as he could remember, had grown in, yet Kichi suspected that any attempts to correct his appearance would still be quite vehemently disapproved of.

Kichi’s guest coughed, cleared his throat wetly, and put the pipe aside. Without raising his head, Kichi was aware that he was being studied closely. He waited. Foolish as tonight’s guest was presently behaving, the old man had not lost the keen eye and instincts that had earned him his success and notoriety.

“How old are you now, Kichi?”

“Twenty, sir.”

The guest let out a guffaw. “Don’t lie to me. I remember you when you first came here, you know.” He paused to inhale deeply on his pipe. “A pretty little thing, quiet as a mouse.”

“And I think that I can remember you back then, sir,” Kichi replied blandly. “So young and handsome. How long ago it was.”

He worried for a second that he had spoken too rashly, but the man only laughed again, and then coughed again. “Here,” he said at last, beckoning.

Kichi drew closer obediently, until they were pressed side by side and his guest seemed satisfied. The smell of tobacco and liquor was sharp in Kichi’s nostrils, and the man’s body felt hot and moist.

Elsewhere, the house was abuzz with typical evening activity – all manner of sounds could be heard through the thin floor and walls – but Kichi’s guest had been given one of the larger, finer rooms all to himself, even though it was only him and Kichi. Outside was nothing but the occasional buzz of an insect, and farther away, the lights and noises of the places beyond the house.

Were it not for the oppressive heat, the scene would have been almost peaceful. Kichi retrieved the last of the sake and held it to his guest’s lips. As unsuitable as Kichi’s current appearance might be, little else had changed. He had forgotten nothing of his role.

His guest drank appreciatively. One of his hands found its way around Kichi’s waist, and then slid up, up, until it rested on the back of Kichi’s neck, one thumb rubbing lazily at the short hair there. Something about the sensation set Kichi’s nerves on edge, just enough that the night air seemed a little more stifling, the buzz of an insect on the window frame a little more annoying.

Kichi’s guest smiled blearily. “It’s time you became a man, isn’t it?” he asked, a hint of teasing back in his voice. “I might help you with your ceremony, if you ask nicely enough.” Before Kichi could respond, his guest ruffled his hair more purposefully, chortling to himself.

A burning, suffocating impulse rose within Kichi’s chest. He felt his hands clench into fists, unnoticed against the blankets. For one short, dangerous moment, he saw himself slapping his guest’s hand away, saw himself snapping the pipe in two and shoving it deep down his throat.

He swallowed, forcing the thought from his mind. Such an act would mean the end of him, even putting aside the incident of two months ago. And it was merely a drunken old man before him, one who was perhaps too pleased with his own wit but meant no real harm.

Kichi had not been so hot-tempered before, not even when guests had teased him in far worse ways. Another change, these last two months.

“You flatter me, sir,” he said smoothly, when he was able. He pressed himself a little closer, tilting his head in just such a way so that he might slide out of his guest’s grasp. “And will you take me under your wing, when I leave this place?” Never mind that this guest had no more to offer than a life of petty crime. Had the man truly possessed any interest in helping Kichi move forward in the world, he would have done so years ago.

“Should I?” The guest mused playfully. “You might do well enough, with how you roughed up that fellow a little while ago.”

Kichi was still on guard from the man’s last remark, so it was easier to keep his body relaxed and his mind blank this time.

Nevertheless, something must have shown on his face, or in his lack of a quick response, because after a moment his guest patted him good-humoredly on the shoulder. “A joke, Kichi, just a joke!”

The man moved to lie down on the futon, wheezing slightly as he settled himself. “But enough of that. Come here.”

 

Some time later Kichi descended the stairs, a bundle of dirty bedding clasped in his arms. The hour was late indeed now, though the air had grown no cooler. The night’s guests had either departed or grown quiet, and the house’s residents had begun to walk about freely once more, tidying up as Kichi was or doing whatever else might be necessary before they, too, settled down for the night.

This was how Kichi rounded a corner and found himself suddenly faced with one resident in particular, the sight of whom was no less unwelcome no matter how many days and weeks passed.

Takenaga Yasunosuke’s eyes went wide and round as two coins when he saw Kichi, and he took a small step backwards. Kichi did not move, and kept his face pointedly blank.

Yasunosuke’s mouth twisted, grimaced. “What – what are you doing?” he demanded at last.

Kichi glanced down at the bundle in his arms and then back up again, raising his eyebrows by the slightest fraction. He had no interest in wasting words on Yasunosuke, even had he not been forbidden from doing so.

They stood beside the open doorway of a room from which light and the sound of merry-making still drifted. Yasunosuke’s face was lit up from one side, casting shadows sharply across his features. His hair was still no more than a few finger-widths in length, an even sorrier sight than Kichi’s. Kichi’s hair had only been cropped, not shaved away completely. The Master had done the deed quickly at the height of his anger, lacking the methodical dedication that Kichi had applied to the same task.

Yasunosuke’s clothes were plain and shabby, the sort worn by the newest boys who were good for very little.   An empty tray dangled at his side, grasped by fingers still slack from the surprise of coming face-to-face with Kichi. Was he running errands, this wayward lord’s son? But perhaps that was to be expected. Kichi struggled to imagine any guest deigning to amuse himself with someone like him, even now that months had passed and Lord Takenaga’s youngest son had been thoroughly swallowed up by the house.

“Yasu?” A light, inquiring voice interrupted. The next moment the door slid open a little wider, and a slender figure emerged, hair tied up neatly and a brightly-colored kimono falling open just enough to slide down one shoulder. “What are you – “ Dark eyes flitted from Yasunosuke to Kichi, before narrowing. “Oh.”

Asahi – as this boy was called – stepped farther into the hallway, shutting the door behind him with practiced, silent, tact. Asahi joined Yasunosuke in Kichi’s path, arms crossed. “What are you doing?” he demanded, as if imitating Yasunosuke, albeit more forcefully.

There was no rule against Kichi speaking to _Asahi_ , and it was the height of ridiculousness if Kichi could no longer walk through the halls of the only home he had known for the last twelve years without being interrogated like a criminal. “Nothing,” Kichi said, gesturing again at the soiled blanket in his arms. Kichi’s guest had spent prodigiously across a patch of complicated embroidery. It would become harder to clean properly the longer the task was delayed. Would the Takenaga boy make Kichi’s life more unpleasant in even such a small way as this? “I was just walking by, but it seems there is something in my way,” Kichi continued. He smiled, put just enough force into his words that the smile would fool no one, and did not look at Yasunosuke.

Asahi pursed his red-painted lips in displeasure. He was seventeen years old, well accustomed to the ways of the house and quite sought-after by the guests who could afford him. Even Kichi, who cared little for gossip, had heard that Asahi’s contract would soon be bought by a theater in a neighboring district, as fortunate an outcome as any of them might wish for.

It was Asahi who had wound up with the responsibility of overseeing Yasunosuke’s introduction to the house, after Kichi had been careless. In the time since, Yasunosuke seemed to have taken to trailing after Asahi like a chick after a mother hen. Though the two were not so far apart in age, Asahi was slight with delicate features, while Yasunosuke was still unsuitably muscle-bound even after two months of poor meals and little exercise. Standing side by side, they created a contrast that Kichi thought quite comical.

Now, Asahi laid one pale hand on Yasunosuke’s arm, not quite turning his back on Kichi. “Go, Yasu,” he urged softly.

 _Yasu_. As a new name, it was distinctly half-hearted, but enough time had passed that it seemed as if no other name would be forthcoming. In any case, it did not matter what the house’s most unfortunate acquisition was called, nor what rags he wore. He would always be Takenaga Yasunosuke, the spawn of the one who had laid ruin to Kichi’s family and Kichi’s future. Kichi would not despise him any less.

Yasunosuke balked a moment more, and then walked around Kichi and back down the hall. Even with his gaze trained pointedly straight ahead, Kichi was aware that Yasunosuke had given him the widest possible berth, just as he was aware that Asahi stood as tense as if he was watching two dogs who might spring at each other’s throats if they were allowed too close to each other.

Ridiculous, all of it. Had he cared to, Kichi might have informed Asahi that he had no interest in laying a finger on Yasunosuke, or associating with him in even the smallest way. And if Yasunosuke harbored any inclination to make Kichi pay for what had transpired on his first afternoon at the house, two months had passed with no sign of it whatsoever.

Yasunosuke was well gone now, lost among the straggling guests and sleepy boys. Asahi continued to glare at Kichi

“I _was_ just walking by.” Kichi could not help telling him, even though it was not worth the effort to defend himself against such stupidity.

“You aren’t supposed to come near Yasu,” Asahi warned him, equally unnecessarily.

Kichi shrugged with exaggerated helplessness. “Very well. I will walk backwards one hundred paces whenever I lay eyes on – “ The short, innocuous name that Asahi and the others used would never pass Kichi’s lips. “- _Him_ , and when the Master asks why I am getting nothing done, I will tell him that you are not satisfied with anything else.”

It was a weak jab – the Master would hardly take Kichi’s side against Asahi, especially not with things as they were now – but while the accusing look on Asahi’s face did not fade, Kichi saw the younger boy’s gaze dart back towards the room from which he had emerged, as if reminded of his own work. Asahi had surely had a busy evening, one that had not yet ended, and now he, too, was wasting his time.

Asahi did not sigh in exasperation – his poise was too perfect, even now when no guests could see – but something in his posture shifted slightly, and the lateness of the hour seemed to weigh a little heavier on his slight shoulders.

“Kichi,” he asked. “How long will this go on?”

For a moment, Kichi could only stare at him. As the question turned itself over and over inside his mind, he felt another odd spark of anger in his chest, one that even the sight of Yasunosuke had not aroused. How could Kichi be expected to answer such a question? It was the Master who had decided that Kichi and Yasunosuke were to be kept apart at all times, and it was he who would decide when that restriction might come to an end. It was Yasunosuke who persisted in acting so jumpy at the sight of Kichi, when Kichi had not so much as spoken to him for two months. Kichi had no control over any part of it. 

Asahi stared back, waiting. It had not been so many years ago that he had first arrived from the countryside, dirty and half-starved and so unsure of himself that he had clung to Kichi – the oldest, even then – at every opportunity.

Asahi had changed quite a bit since then, grown well into the role into which he had been placed. Kichi, who had nothing left to grow into, had not changed at all.

In the end, Kichi simply stepped around Asahi and went on his way without another word.

 

The room was pitch-black when Kichi finally lay down for the night, the presence of the others close by him heard and smelled and felt more than seen. The heat had made everyone restless and ill-tempered – a pair persisted in talking too loudly amongst themselves, a third called for them to be quiet, yet another yelled for _him_ to be quiet, and so on – but the other boys were even less inclined to bother Kichi now than they would have been a few months earlier, and so it was not so hard to block them from his mind.

It was harder to block out the memory of Yasunosuke in the hall. His face, still so like that of his damned father and brothers despite his current strange appearance. The way his eyes had widened at the sight of Kichi.

Kichi had done nothing wrong. Well, that was not entirely true – it had been unwise to do something that had brought him only fleeting satisfaction, when the cost had been the Master’s displeasure every day since. Kichi had acted recklessly, without considering the consequences until it was too late.   

But he had _not_ been wrong in laying hands on the son of his enemy – he had told himself as much again and again these last two months, until he knew it to be the truth. In the life he had been robbed of – the one in which he might have been a warrior of many years’ experience by now – it would have been understood, even expected, for him to have struck Yasunosuke dead. What he had done instead was hardly anything, really. Hair grew back. Kichi could see as much each time he was unlucky enough to lay eyes on Yasunosuke.

As for the rest of it…it would be exaggerating to say that Kichi had injured Yasunosuke. He had not been able to see him for some time after the incident, of course, but Kichi felt certain that he had left little more than a bruise or two on the traitor’s son, if that.

And hadn’t the Master himself ordered Kichi to teach Yasunosuke the ways of the house? He might have done far worse, if that had been the goal. Kichi had spent so many years at the house, longer than any of the others. He knew so many things.

Yasunosuke was lying somewhere in the darkness now, just as Kichi was. He would be as far as possible from Kichi, even as they all slept. Pasted to Asahi’s side, no doubt.

Kichi did not know what exactly it was that Yasunosuke _did_ inside the house. The question gnawed at him daily, despite the fact that good sense told him that he should put Lord Takenaga’s son out of his mind, that even if further vengeance was deserved – if Yasunosuke had not become too pathetic for such a thing – it would be best saved for later, when Kichi had come back into favor and his earlier misstep had been forgotten. In the meantime, it should not have mattered how Yasunosuke spent his days and nights.

And yet Kichi _needed_ to know, needed it almost desperately. He had caught glimpses of Yasunosuke occupied with some chore or another plenty of times before tonight’s encounter – Yasunosuke was larger and stronger than most of the others, and there were plenty of things for him to do. But chores were not the purpose for which anyone entered the house – surely that applied to Yasunosuke as well, overgrown as he was? But the other kind of work – the main kind of work - was not so easily seen, and none of the others would speak to Kichi on the subject. The Master had made his expectations quite clear to everyone.

Did the guests entertain themselves with Yasunosuke? Did he tremble beneath them, as he had done beneath Kichi?

The thought of it filled Kichi’s chest with an odd tightness, an emotion that he could not identify and did not like.

In the end, sleep did not come until long after the others had fallen silent, and the house had become dark and still in every corner.

 

“Someone’s waiting for you.”

Kichi looked up sharply, caught by surprise. Several days had passed since the night when he had come so close to Yasunosuke in the hall. The day had been as boring as any other, and it was still not quite the time for the evening’s activities to begin in earnest. And Kichi was always one of the last to become occupied, especially these days.

And yet, it did not seem that he had misheard. The boy who had come bearing the message met Kichi’s look of surprise blankly. “In the Plum Room.” The next moment, the boy had caught sight of a friend and hurried away, uninterested in providing further explanation.

Kichi stared after him, perplexed. A guest this early, for him? It was most unusual – could it be some sort of mistake? But the boy had spoken very clearly, despite the frustrating lack of any helpful details.

The Plum Room was the best room in the house, used by the very richest or most important guests. No matter how unexpected all this was, Kichi could not delay. He hurriedly made himself presentable. At least he did not have to spend any time on his hair these days – there was nothing he could do that would improve his appearance even slightly in that regard.

The oppressive humidity of late summer had not yet abated. Kichi had found himself increasingly listless over the past few days, and not even the excitement of such a curious situation could revive him entirely. He paused for just a moment outside of the Plum Room, readying himself to stay composed and attentive no matter what lay ahead. It would surely not be anything too difficult, not for one such as Kichi, whose only role for so many years now had been to satisfy all manner of men. He could not fail at this.

He slid the door open and bowed deeply, until the strands of his short hair almost brushed against the matting of the floor. “My deepest apologies for keeping you waiting, sir.”

It was only as he slowly raised his head that he finally got a good look at his guest. The man who sat before him was somewhat younger than he had expected, perhaps only a few years senior to Kichi himself. His face was pleasingly balanced, though it had a bland, basic quality like that of a doll or a figure in the background of a painting. The top of his head was shaved, with the remaining hair tied up neatly, and he wore a dark blue kimono and grey hakama trousers. His clothing was plain, and gave no immediate clues to the guest’s identity, but Kichi’s practiced eye could see that it was well-made and in good condition. A man of some means, as he had expected.

As the man surveyed Kichi in turn, Kichi saw a look of surprise flash across his face. The look that replaced it the next second was one of unmistakable dismay.

Disappointment bloomed inside Kichi’s chest, unexpectedly harsh. So there _had_ been some sort of error, after all. But of course there had been. Kichi was old and strange-looking nowadays, with little to entice a guest beyond the availability of his body. A well-off man could find plenty of more appealing options, even at such as place as Fuji.

“Who are you?” The man was still peering at him curiously, though he looked no more satisfied by what he saw. “One of the proprietors of this place?”

The question hit Kichi like a slap. Did he appear old enough to be the likes of the Master, _really?_ And furthermore, did this man think that such a person would prostrate himself before him in a brightly patterned kimono, with a painted face? This guest might have had more money than most, but what of his _sense?  
_

“ _No_ , sir.” Kichi took a moment to steady himself further before continuing. “I am merely one of the entertainers.”

“Oh.” The man sounded doubtful. “I asked for…”

“For me, sir,” Kichi finished. “Or, that is what I was told.”

“Oh,” The man said again. His expression had returned to one of disappointment, and he seemed deep in thought.

Kichi waited in silence, his head lowered just enough to be respectful yet not so much that he could not keep his eyes on the man. Long years of experience urged him to apologize, to explain to the guest that he might have a new boy within minutes if Kichi dissatisfied him.

Something inside of him held him back, just slightly. It was not in Kichi’s typical nature to be petty, or to take interest in anything beyond doing what what was expected of him, and yet… Kichi had prepared for this, had dressed and hurried to this room at a time when he might otherwise be idle for several hours more. And this man, whoever he was, looked to be a promising sort of guest – not only rich, but well-groomed and good-looking enough, with no immediate signs of being unbearably rough or unpleasant. Why should Kichi have to back down and meekly turn this man over to one of the other boys? They were no better than him, no more deserving. Why should he go out of his way to make things better for this man, when it was very likely his own fault – somehow – that he had wound up with Kichi?

His patience paid off perhaps a minute later. “Very well,” the man said at last, nodding vaguely in Kichi’s direction.

It was not exactly enthusiasm, but it was not a dismissal. Kichi needed no more than that. He dared to cross the room fully, drawing closer to the man.

Somebody had prepared the room in advance of Kichi’s arrival. A futon had been set out neatly, along with two lanterns – not yet needed, so early in the evening - on one side of the room. The guest had been given something to drink, as well, though up close Kichi could see that it appeared to be nothing stronger than tea.

“I am called Kichi, sir. And you…?”

“‘Tatsurou’ will do,” his guest answered, rather shortly.

A few seconds passed in awkward silence. It was always a tiresome turn of events, to have a guest who would take his time and require flirting and cajoling – Kichi had little talent for such frivolities, and did not enjoy them. But this man – Tatsurou – had caught his interest, despite his odd ways.

“Tatsurou,” Kichi said, doing his best to let the name drip like honey from his tongue.

The man had been occupying himself with pouring himself more tea, but his eyes flickered in Kichi’s direction, for just a moment. _There_. There was _some_ sort of interest there, even with all of the man’s standoffishness. It would be plenty for Kichi’s purposes.

Kichi reached out and carefully took the teapot, letting his fingers linger on top of Tatsurou’s. “Please, allow me,” he said, in the same leisurely manner.

This time, he was even more confident of Tatsurou’s eyes on him while he slowly finished pouring the tea, bending forward in a well-rehearsed manner that he knew would make a show of humility while also displaying the long line of his neck and the place where his kimono hung open just slightly. As he straightened, some of the tea – more warm than hot, thankfully – dripped onto his fingers, and he took the opportunity to raise his hand to his mouth and lap it away quite deliberately. It was a particularly shameless play – plenty of guests would have laughed in Kichi’s face, had he tried such a thing on them – but Tatsurou’s eyes went a little wider, and Kichi thought he saw him gulp as he took up the cup that Kichi had poured for him.

“What brings you to such a place as this, sir?” Kichi asked innocently. He inched closer yet to Tatsurou, until the man’s stiff shoulders brushed against his own. “Please, tell me how I may help you take your ease.”

“I…” Tatsurou started unsteadily, before trailing off, distracted by how Kichi had brought one hand around to toy at the place where his kimono was pulled closed.

“This is your first time to visit this humble place, yes?” Kichi persisted. “How fortunate I am, to be the one who will share your company tonight.” As ill-suited as he was to such games, Kichi could not help but feel a small thrill of excitement. This was _easy_ – for all his initial dissatisfaction, the man had warmed up so quickly that Kichi felt as if he might say almost anything, as long as he said it in a sufficiently seductive manner. He would please this guest handily, he would show the Master and anyone else who doubted him that he could still play his part well, that nothing had changed despite his error of two months ago.

Tatsurou did not speak, but he hurried to loosen the ties of his hakama. Kichi watched, inwardly humming with triumph, as the man’s clothing fell away to reveal a ruddy staff of a cock, already well hardened.

Kichi wrapped one hand around it, and felt Tatsurou twitch and sigh. “My,” he purred. “I _am_ fortunate, indeed.”

A hand was placed warningly on his arm – obviously the most hesitation his guest could muster, at the moment. “Wait,” Tatsurou grunted. “We should – we should move, first.”

Kichi was about to murmur his agreement when a realization struck him, sudden and uncommon enough to throw him off the practiced act he had settled into. Tatsurou’s hand was still lingering on his wrist, and Kichi could feel quite clearly that the man had callouses in a particular pattern, one that came from carrying a sword. It was a pattern that Kichi knew even from his own hands, an impossible number of years ago when he had still been – well, Kichi could recognize it, in any case.

He studied Tatsurou once more, ignoring the way that the man was waiting expectantly for Kichi to rise and lead him to the futon. Kichi had served other guests who used swords and all manner of other weapons – though such things were not permitted to be carried inside the house, thankfully – but more often than not those men were criminals or perhaps warriors who were many years removed from any sort of legitimate position they might have once held. The man before Kichi, with his neat clothing and his restrained ways – he was surely a different sort of man. Kichi did not like to recall the past, especially not at such a moment as this, but he still knew an honorable, disciplined warrior of good standing when he saw him.

“Is something wrong?” Tatsurou asked, making perhaps half an effort to conceal his impatience.

Kichi hurriedly brought his attention back to the task at hand. It was unusual to find himself serving a warrior, but it did not change what lay ahead. He could not let himself get lost in useless thoughts. “My apologies, sir,” he said quickly. He climbed to his feet and took Tatsurou by the hand.

It did not take much time to fall back into the rhythm of things. Tatsurou’s enthusiasm sent them half-tumbling onto the futon, and Kichi very quickly found himself on top of the man, their mouths pressed wetly together as Kichi stroked Tatsurou’s cock to full hardness.

Tatsurou had fully lost himself to the urges of his body by now, even more completely than Kichi had hoped for. His bland face had grown as flushed as his cock, his brow was furrowed almost angrily, and he thrust his tongue into Kichi’s mouth with every bit as much energy as any of Kichi’s other, less refined guests.

His sword-calloused hands cupped Kichi’s head, fingers buried in his hair. Unlike the teasing of the old man Kichi had entertained some nights ago, Tatsurou’s touch made Kichi shiver delightfully. He was aroused too, by now - Tatsurou was handsome, and unexpectedly skillful with his mouth.

When he felt the time was right, he pulled away with some reluctance, and fumbled inside the breast of his kimono. Tatsurou watched him, his eyes drowsy with arousal and his hands on Kichi’s waist.

“Why is your hair like that?” Tatsurou asked. 

It was the last thing Kichi wanted to hear, but even being reminded of his punishment could not dampen his spirits now. “I – I have been sick,” he answered quickly. He had enough sense in him yet to add, a second later, “I am quite better now, though.”

Tatsurou seemed to pay little attention to his words, and Kichi sensed that the man would be hardly deterred even if Kichi had told him that he was due to depart to a lepers’ village later that very evening. As the man’s hands grew more greedy, and Kichi knew that he would be pulled back down in another second, regardless of how long it would take to get to the main activity, Kichi’s fingers finally brushed against the thing that he had been searching for.

“Ah, _yes_.” Kichi withdrew the tiny folded paper hastily, and prepared to bring it to his lips. At the last second, he thought to grab at Tatsurou’s hands and move them to the obi that still held his clothing more or less in place. “Here, help me get ready for you…”

 

The futon felt heavy and overly warm against Kichi’s back, as sticky as the air that filled the room. Kichi’s body was too warm too – sweat dripped against his back and under his arms, dampened his cropped hair, but it did not bother him, not now.

The paper and its contents had dissolved pleasingly on Kichi’s tongue, melting into an ample amount of slickness that Kichi was now dabbing hastily between his legs. Tatsurou watched him, transfixed, all clothing cast away and his cock urgently stiff.

His cock – Kichi brought his hand to his lips once more, belatedly recalling the proper way to fully prepare for the guest to take him. There was little lubricant left, barely enough for Tatsurou. Kichi moaned in frustration, his own cock bobbing against his belly. He wanted Tatsurou slick and ready for him, he wanted _more –_

“Here,” Tatsurou pulled Kichi’s hand away and guided it to his length, letting what still remained on Kichi’s fingers slide over it wetly. Tatsurou choked out a groan at the sensation, and Kichi did the same.

Tatsurou turned Kichi over onto his belly, his hands sweaty and unsteady. Kichi’s cock rubbed against the damp bedding, and he let out a wanton cry.

“You are very hot,” Tatsurou’s voice came roughly from behind him. “Are you sure you are not still sick?”

“No!” Kichi gasped. It no longer required any sort of forethought or calculations to urge Tatsurou on. He was not sure if his mind was capable of such things anymore. “No, it is just – I need you!”

He heard Tatsurou groan once more, and before Kichi could say anything else, he felt a familiar pressure and heat as the man began to enter him. The warrior moved slowly, but deliberately – Kichi had prepared more than sufficiently after all – until he was buried to the hilt inside of Kichi. His body was heavy and solid on top of Kichi’s, and he smelled of sweat in a rich, masculine way that enveloped Kichi’s senses. Kichi let his head loll against the bedding, limp with contentment.

Tatsurou began to move, thrusting steadily in and out of Kichi’s slick opening. His arms were braced near to Kichi’s head, and Kichi found himself hazily noticing their strength and thickness, a sure sign of one well-practiced in the warrior arts.

An idea flickered through his pleasure-addled thoughts, a remnant, perhaps, of when he had still been alert to what he might do to stoke his guest’s passion to the highest possible degree.

“Oh,” he moaned, flexing his back to press himself even more firmly against Tatsurou. “Oh, please, Captain!”

He felt Tatsurou freeze above him, and heard a rough intake of breath. He waited, nervousness mingling with the excitement that had lit up his body. It had been presumptuous, but if his guest was indeed a warrior, there was likely a certain kind of relationship to which he was accustomed…

His experiment bore fruit when Tatsurou let out a sound that was almost like a growl and began to fuck into him more forcefully, wrapping one solid arm around Kichi to pull them closer together.

“Yes,” Tatsurou answered, rough and unsteady. “Yes, yes-“

Kichi did his best not to lose himself completely, and endeavored to fix in his mind the image of some blushing young warrior-in-training, offering himself up to the tutelage and affections of his senior. He had no experience with such things – he had not had the chance – but he could do his best to imagine... “Captain,” he gasped. “I – I pledge myself to you, I swear it – “

The earnest promise seemed to have an even greater effect than Kichi’s earlier, lewder words. Tatsurou pulled back just enough to turn Kichi on his side, and drew an arm up beneath one of Kichi’s legs so that Kichi was splayed open quite completely. Before Kichi could even begin to adjust to the new position, Tatsurou had pressed back into him, deeper than ever before. Kichi shouted, his toes curling and his hands balling into helpless fists.

“Y-yes.” Kichi strained to look over his shoulder, and was able to catch a glimpse of Tatsurou’s face, red and sweaty with exertion. The warrior’s eyes were tightly closed.

 _Good,_ a part of Kichi thought, even as his body was pushed closer and closer to heaven. _He will not be distracted by how I look, he can lose himself completely._ “Please,” he moaned once more. “Please, use me as you like – _ah!_ “ The plea grew even more urgent than intended as Tatsurou drove himself squarely against the particularly sensitive place deep within Kichi.

“Good,” Tatsurou was mumbling with equal urgency, to whoever he was imagining in Kichi’s place. “T-that’s right, let me have you, I’ll protect you, I’ll-“

Kichi let his own eyes close, and reached down to grasp at his cock. It took only a few strokes until he no longer heard Tatsurou’s words at all, drowned out by his own loud groan as his seed flowed endlessly over his hand and across his belly.

He collapsed, unable to do any more as Tatsurou continued to do as liked, until he, too, began to shudder, and then to moan in satisfaction.

When Kichi could at last muster the energy to sit, he found that Tatsurou had already begun to clean himself up. “Wait,” Kichi croaked. His throat felt just as sore as the rest of him. When had he last been so undone, and by an unfamiliar guest, no less? He could not even remember. “I should – “

Tatsurou had already finished wiping himself clean of sweat and seed with disciplined efficiency, and was beginning to retie his loincloth. “See to yourself first,” he said, bluntly but not unkindly.

Kichi straightened a little more, moving gingerly – as his ecstasy faded, the physical price of what he had just undergone was becoming more apparent. He felt languid and overheated, and could bring himself to do no more than grab at his discarded kimono. When he ran one hand across his face, he found that drool was drying in an unseemly manner at one corner of his mouth, and his choppy hair was sticking up in all directions. Tatsurou’s release was messy on his thighs, on the futon.

Tatsurou had finished securing his loincloth and was beginning to work on the rest of his clothing. “Will you – will you keep me company a little longer, sir?” Kichi remembered to ask, belatedly and awkwardly.

Tatsurou shook his head. “I can’t stay, I’m afraid.”

A disappointment, but not such a terrible one. The warrior had not seemed like the sort to laze about in a house of ill repute. And Kichi had already attained his goal – he had unquestionably satisfied this guest, and gotten his own pleasure as well. No one would be able to find fault with his work tonight. And perhaps Tatsurou would remember him fondly, pay another visit to the house and request Kichi purposefully…

“Actually,” Tatsurou was saying. “There is one more thing I would like your assistance with, if it’s possible.”

“What is it?” The man spoke in such an amusingly serious manner now. Kichi almost smiled at it.

“The truth is,” Tatsurou started. “I did not come here in search of…of what one usually wants at a place like this. Not that I’m unsatisfied now!” he added hastily, as if afraid that Kichi might take offense. “No, you are very – very skilled, it’s clear.”

“Yes?” Kichi had begun, slowly, to compose himself once more, though Tatsurou’s halting praise did not go unnoticed.

“I was…looking for someone.” Tatsurou looked down, as if he was admitting something foolish. “A young man from a good family, who has been forced to debase himself through no fault of his own. I had heard a rumor that he had been brought here, and that his hair was perhaps cut short nowadays.” His eyes met Kichi’s once more, with a sincerity that was almost palpable. “Do you know of anyone like that?”

Something came alive within Kichi’s chest, like a bird spreading long-neglected wings, preparing to take flight. 

The next instant, he understood.

“Please,” Tatsurou continued. “Even a guess, even the smallest thing you might have seen or heard. I must find him. It’s more important than you can imagine.”

The sweat on Kichi’s body had turned ice-cold.

Tatsurou lowered his voice confidentially. “His name is Yasunosuke.”

Kichi was preoccupied with tying up his obi, his head lowered. It took several attempts to begin to do it correctly – his hands felt as if they were carved from wood, and the fabric kept slipping from his grasp.

“Have you-?”

“ _No_ ,” Kichi cut him off. “There is no one – no one like that here. No one at all. I am sorry.”

It was the truth, after all. The Master himself would have told Tatsurou no differently: There was no Yasunosuke from a good family, only Yasu, the useless boy who Kichi was not allowed to approach or speak to. Just as there was only Kichi, or Asahi, or the rest of them.

“I see.” The look of disappointment that had fallen over Tatsurou’s face when he had first laid eyes on Kichi ( _Because he had asked for the one who was older, with short hair, and he had expected –_ ) had returned, so great that Tatsurou seemed to no longer be paying Kichi any notice. It was a fortunate thing.

At last, Kichi heard a rustle of fabric, and then felt a small object being pressed into his frozen, unaccepting hands. “Take this,” Tatsurou told him.

When Kichi looked at it, dully, he found that it was a small seal, of the sort used by those of high status. The seal was made of fine wood, and had been carved to show a clan name that Kichi did not recognize.

“Keep it,” Tatsurou explained. “If you ever _do_ see him –“ Kichi began to shake his head, but Tatsurou was not deterred. “Give him this. He will recognize it, and know that he is not alone.”

 _Leave,_ Kichi thought at him, desperately. _Stop talking and leave._ “Very well, sir,” he said. “Thank you."

 

Long after Tatsurou had finally departed, Kichi remained in the Plum Room, pacing back and forth. It would not be long before somebody wondered where he was, or wanted to make use of the room themselves, but Kichi could not leave, could not step out into the rest of the house that had at last begun to stir.

Who _was_ Tatsurou, and why was he looking for Yasunosuke? The words _I must find him_ echoed endlessly in Kichi’s head. He had thought that Yasunosuke had been sent to Fuji with no other options and no friends in the world, but now it seemed that was not entirely the case.

A new realization sliced through the fog of confusion in Kichi’s brain, one so terrible that he felt his stomach twist. Any friend of Takenaga Yasunosuke’s could only be an enemy of Kichi’s, surely. And Kichi had allowed the man to use him quite shamelessly, so recently that the stink of sex still hung about the room.

The room seemed to spin for a moment, as a wave of memories – his long-lost father and mother, his home – hit him one after another. Bad enough if Tatsurou had taken him by force, or if Kichi had serviced him grudgingly, with no choice but to carry out his duties. What Kichi had done was far worse.

He did not think his guest could have been another one of Lord Takenaga’s cursed sons – Kichi would surely have seen the likeness, as often as he was assailed by the sight of Yasunosuke these days – but Kichi could not remember the face or name of every man that had some affiliation with the lord back then, had not even known all of them. Young though Tatsurou was, he would have been old enough twelve years ago to help force Kichi’s father and his men into defeat, to help lay ruin to Kichi’s home. And Kichi had spread his legs eagerly for the man, cried out for more.

His guts churned sourly, and he felt sick as the story he had murmured to Tatsurou. He should kill himself. If he was still truly his father’s son, despite it all, there was only one way he could possibly begin to make up for this latest humiliation he had bought upon his family.

But even as the thought crossed his mind, he knew that he could not do it. Such paths to redemption were long closed to him now. He did not know how he would even get his hands on a sword in a place like this, let alone carry out the rest of what a proper suicide required. And if he threw himself off the roof, or tried to hang himself… It would mean nothing to anyone, and there was no guarantee that he would not be interrupted, or fail in some other manner, and then he would be even lower than he already was.

Looking down, Kichi saw that his hands were clenched so tightly that the fine engravings of Tatsurou’s seal had pressed deeply into the palm of his had, leaving a red and white brand. He threw it away with a disgusted cry, sending it bouncing across the floor.

Tatsurou still believed that the one he sought might turn up at the house, if he was willing to leave such a token with Kichi. Would he return? Kichi did not know if he would be able to stand seeing the man’s face again, let alone anything more.

Another thought occurred to him suddenly, one more practical than any of the other wild ideas that had flown through his mind in the time since Tatsurou had left. Several times over the years boys had tried to take their leave of the house against the stipulations of their contracts. Some of them had had outside help. If the escape was thwarted, not only would the boy be punished but the Master would use his various connections and associates to make life quite miserable for the one who had tried to help him.

Wasn’t this more or less the same thing, no matter the unusual circumstances that had transpired to bring Yasunosuke to the house, and Tatsurou after him? The Master would not be pleased if he learned of it, not at all.

Kichi hurriedly retrieved Tatsurou’s seal, ablaze with new resolve and the promise of what lay ahead. He would tell the Master exactly what had happened, he would even have the seal for proof. He did not know how the Master would handle Tatsurou – the man was still a mystery, and some levels above the sort of person the Master usually dealt with – but Yasunosuke…

Yasunosuke would surely be punished severely. Or maybe the Master would simply tire of him and cast him out onto the streets, sold by his family but rejected by even the lowest of whorehouses? That way Kichi would no longer have to look upon him, no longer be reminded of unwelcome things and stirred to strange, dangerous moods. Yes, that would be best. Let the Master get rid of Yasunosuke, let Kichi’s life return to normal once and for all.

The hour was late now – the lanterns had been lit, and rowdy, lewd noises could be heard from each room as made his way through the house. He paid little attention to it all, no more than he paid to the men who cursed and the boys who gave him dirty looks as he shoved past them.

The Master’s office was at the front of the house, the better to keep an eye on those going in and out. Kichi knelt in the doorway and waited for acknowledgement, heart racing.

“Enter.” The Master was seated at a low desk, examining some papers, but he set them aside as Kichi approached. He was thin man, who would be considered middle-aged for only a few more years at most. He had a pleasant, mild face that would have been well-suited to a shopkeeper or perhaps a poor scholar, though after twelve years Kichi knew well what he could be capable of.

“Master,” Kichi bowed shakily. His palms were sweating in a way that had nothing to do with the heat. “There is – I have something important to tell you, it cannot wait – “

The Master cut him off. “Is it about Yasu?”

Kichi’s words stuttered to a halt. The Master regarded him coolly, and it was painfully obvious that Kichi’s silence had confirmed his suspicions just as well as anything that he might have said.

“He is none of your concern.”

“He – “ Kichi had not had time to consider this part, in his excitement. Surely the Master would not mind that Kichi had involved himself with Yasunosuke once he knew the whole story, surely he would see that Kichi had done nothing wrong. “It is not – “

“Kichi. Are you to speak to Yasu?”

“No, but I didn’t –“

“To go near Yasu?”

Kichi felt a drop of sweat slide down the back of his neck. “No, Master,” he answered.

The Master leaned forward in his seat very slightly, though his expression did not change. “Are you to _think_ of Yasu? Do not tell me you have forgotten.”

Kichi’s short hair, and the rules banning him from having anything to do with Yasunosuke, were the only parts of his punishment that had lingered over the past two months, but Kichi could still recall the other parts very clearly. He shook his head, feeling once again the hard edges of the seal squeezed inside his fist.

The Master sighed, and sat back. “Do you why I let you stay here, Kichi, after what you did?” he asked at last.

 _Because I have been here twelve long years, and caused little trouble in that time until very recently,_ Kichi thought. _Because I have done what you and the guests asked of me without complaint, because I have brought you plenty of money and can continue to do so._ He knew the Master well enough to know that saying all this aloud would be seen as insolence, though, and so he waited.

“Because I know that you have nowhere else to go,” the Master said.

Kichi could say nothing in response, could do no more than stare back at him.

“We both know that no one has offered you any opportunities outside of here, Kichi. It would not even be a matter of completing your contract. You have done more than enough for that by now, but…” The Master waved a hand in a gesture that was equal parts careless and cold. “And you have no family or friends in these parts either, do you?”

Kichi shook his head numbly. Did the Master remember at all the circumstances that had brought Kichi to his door so long ago? But then, Kichi was just one boy out of so many.

“You know that I am not a cruel man. It would not please me to see you turned into a homeless beggar.” _So do not force me to make that happen,_ was the unspoken but quite clear message.

Kichi took a deep, shaky breath – his lungs had become as frozen as the rest of him, without him even realizing it – and nodded. “I…I understand.” As the impassive, unblinking look the Master was giving him persisted, he added, “Thank you.”

“Do you have anything to tell me, Kichi?”

“No, Master.” Kichi said.

“Very well.” Kichi was prepared to leave, but instead of dismissing him the Master spoke up once more. “What are you going to do in life, Kichi?”

“What?” Kichi was not prepared for such a question, his mind still set firmly on Tatsurou and Yasunosuke.

“You will not be able to do this forever, no matter how willing I am to keep you.” The Master’s manner was almost candid now, as if he and Kichi were two equals engaged in a casual conversation. “You could oversee your own place, someday, I suppose. Would you like that?” he asked.

Kichi felt once more the pang of dismay that had hit him when Tatsurou had mistaken him earlier in the evening. Let alone the fact that the Master had not sounded exactly encouraging, and that Kichi had been given no particular responsibilities or status in twelve long years at the house, even before the incident with Yasunosuke. “I - I do not know.”

“You would be wise to think on it.” The Master’s brows rose, as if a thought had occurred to him. “You had a guest today, yes?”

Kichi swallowed. “I did. It’s finished now.” He was suddenly burningly aware of the sloppiness of his hastily re-tied obi, the traces of makeup he had not quite managed to wipe away in his hurry to address the Master. The ghost-ache of Tatsurou’s cock inside of him.

 “Good.” The Master nodded approvingly. “It is not so hard to stay focused on your own concerns, is it?” He picked up the stack of papers he had set aside on Kichi’s arrival. “Good night, Kichi.”

 

Kichi left the Master’s office in a fog, so preoccupied with useless, painful thoughts that he was not even aware of where his feet were taking him, until he found himself at the top of a flight of stairs and realized that he had walked all the way through to the back of the house, where the baths were.

He descended, one step at a time. Somebody was using the baths – he could hear voices, feel moisture in the air, everywhere Kichi went was so _hot_ tonight, as if all of the house was one giant cooking pan and Kichi was being steamed alive – and so instead of going inside he turned a corner and then another, until he came to a passageway with a high shelf at one end, one which few besides Kichi would be likely to pay any attention to.

The clothing Yasunosuke had worn on his first afternoon at the house was still just as Kichi had left it, folded tightly and pushed far into a corner. Kichi took the bundle out and held it for a moment – he could not have explained why, his body still seemed to be moving of its own accord – until the smooth, fine fabric made him remember the feel of Tatsurou’s kimono beneath his fingers, and he had to shove it away.

Yasunosuke’s wallet was still there too, still empty but for the tiny _netsuke_ figure of the lucky god Hotei carved from ivory. Kichi held it side by side with the slim wooden seal for some time, comparing their weights, running the pad of his thumb over their fine engravings.

So many trinkets, so many people hoping for comfort and safety for Yasunosuke. It had surely done the lord’s son little good, in any case.

Laughter echoed from somewhere unexpectedly close, making Kichi start. He hurriedly stepped away from the shelf, tucking both the seal and the _netsuke_ inside the front of his kimono in his haste.

There was no way back but the one that would take him past whoever had laughed. It had sounded like one of the guests, likely drunk and in high spirits. As accustomed as he was to such things, Kichi walked slowly and hoped that the man would move on before their paths crossed. His body still felt foreign and uncomfortable, his head still spun, and he knew that he would have little patience for anyone who might test him now.

Then, he was able to hear the rise and fall of another voice, too quiet for the words to be fully understood. The voice’s tone was uneasy, dejected. Familiar.

Once more, Kichi’s body seemed to move without any sort of purposeful intention on his part. His steps grew even slower and more deliberate, and his very breath seemed to catch in his throat.

At last he came to a corner, and when he pressed his back to the wall and peered around it – carefully, carefully – he was able to see the scene that was playing out some ways down the passage ahead of him.

There was Asahi, caught up in the arms of a guest who seemed to be whispering something quite elaborate into his ear. A little ways away were two more guests, and between them was Yasunosuke.

“...This a surprise!” One of the men near Yasunosuke was saying, his words carelessly loud and slurred. “A priest, in a place like this!”

The man clapped one hand down on Yasunosuke’s head and rubbed at his short hair vigorously, laughing. His companion – the one not engaged in attempting to stick his tongue inside of Asahi’s ear – sniggered as well.  Yasunosuke stumbled backwards a step but could go no further, trapped neatly between the two men.

Kichi was half-aware of his own shoulders cringing, the skin of his scalp tingling. Try as he might, he could not see Yasunosuke’s face clearly.

When Yasunosuke said nothing, the man at his back took a step forwards, crowding him further still. “How about a prayer for us?” he drawled.

“Sir –“ Yasunosuke spoke quietly, and yet each plaintive syllable seemed to roar in Kichi’s ears. “I am only – only – “

The guest behind him raised one foot suddenly, and drove it hard against the back of his knees. Yasunosuke was a warrior’s son, raised to carry a sword and tolerate not so much as an impolite word from common folk, and yet now his legs crumpled beneath him and he fell to his knees on the floor with a thump.

A gasp, from somewhere? Kichi could not tell, could pay no heed to anything but the sight before him. Yasunosuke steadied himself with his hands, but did not rise, and did not so much as open his mouth in complaint.

Kichi’s gaze flickered to Asahi, still standing only a few steps away in the embrace of the third man. The boy’s pretty face had turned slightly, just enough to steal a glimpse of Yasunosuke’s predicament, but it seemed that there would be no more than that from the boy who had placed himself so officiously in Kichi’s path some nights earlier. But of course there would not be, not against these men.

The man who stood in front of Yasunosuke – loomed over Yasunosuke – moved now, lifting one of his own feet to step down heavily on Yasunosuke’s folded knees. “What?” he asked, and Kichi recognized the tone of a guest who was set on mischief and would not be easily swayed. “What are you?”

It was possible to see Yasunosuke’s face now. The lord’s son’s brow had furrowed miserably, and his lips were pressed into the tight line that Kichi knew well, that Kichi had recalled in his mind’s eye often enough in the past two months. “Sir…” he began once more, and then, as if sensing the futility of it, he trailed off again.

A distant part of Kichi knew that he should leave, that this was nothing to do with him – hadn’t the Master just reminded him? – and yet he could not bring his feet to move even one step backwards, could not so much as blink. Once again the hot summer air seemed to have become a stifling blanket, weighing down on his shoulders and pressing at his chest.

 _Why don’t you shove him aside?_ another part of him was crying at Yasunosuke, frantically, ridiculously. _They are no better than you, no stronger._ And then, at Asahi: _Why don’t you say something, aren’t you supposed to be helping him?_

He could not understand himself, could not catch hold of his senses. The foot in Yasunosuke’s lap had shifted, come to press against his groin. Yasunosuke’s whine of discomfort was too soft for Kichi to hear, at such a distance, but it echoed in his head all the same. His fingers were pressed against the wall, shaking – Asahi’s body had grown stiff in the arms of his guest – someone was laughing – Yasunosuke was – Kichi was –

The wall tilted, and the floor rushed up to meet him.

 

When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying on his back, on something soft – a futon, he realized after another second. The ceiling above him belonged to one of the rooms in which the boys typically slept. He could not recall how he had gotten there, no matter he tried…

“Kichi,” Yasunosuke said.

He spun towards the sound of it, twisting onto his elbows, and found Lord Takenaga’s youngest son sitting on the floor, a newly-lit lamp at his side. The room was empty but for the two of them, though the sounds of the house’s nightly activities could still be faintly heard from elsewhere.

“You fainted,” Yasunosuke offered. He was sitting some ways away from Kichi, though he spoke calmly enough.

The air in this room was not as stuffy as that of the passages by the baths, yet Kichi’s mind and body alike still felt dull, so that even pushing himself up seemed to take all his effort. He could feel now that his throat ached as well as his head. His mind flashed first to his hasty lie to Tatsurou, but then he remembered an earlier guest, the old criminal who had coughed so incessantly from his pipe – or perhaps, not only the pipe.

Kichi let himself sink back onto the futon, mentally cursing all past and future visitors to the house as elaborately as he could. All the while, Yasunosuke shifted uneasily at the edges of his awareness.

“You – you have a fever, we think. But you should be better soon enough, if you rest.”

 _We?_ Kichi wondered for a moment. But oh, yes, Asahi had been there in the passage by the baths, along with several guests. Had they all seen Kichi collapse? Had they realized that he had been watching them?

He twisted his head enough to regard Yasunosuke, more carefully this time. The room, the bed beneath him – it made a little more sense, now. It was surely Asahi’s idea, but who but Yasunosuke would be strong enough to move Kichi – he would try not to think of that part – and have nothing better to do now?

“Are you to be our doctor now?” Kichi asked, as dryly as he could manage. “How useful.”

Yasunosuke ignored him, and pretended to be caught up in doing something with the lamp.

“How often do the guests make use of you?” Kichi asked him.

Yasunosuke’s back was half-turned, but Kichi fancied that he saw the young man’s cheeks flush girlishly. “That is none of your concern,” Yasunosuke said shortly.

His tone was so perfectly disapproving – syllable for syllable a copy of the Master’s words only an hour before – that Kichi could not help but let out a bark of laughter. It turned quickly into a series of coughs so sharp that out of the corner of his eye he could see Yasunosuke start.

“When – when did you begin to speak to me like that?” he wheezed, when he was able to.

Yasunosuke had watched Kichi hack away with his mouth pressed into a small frown, neither turning away nor appearing to take any joy from the sight.

“They told me that you did not have leave to – to treat me the way that you did,” he declared at last, as if making a bold accusation.

The words _Of course I didn’t, fool, could you not guess as much yourself?_ leapt instinctively onto Kichi’s tongue, joined in another instant by the words _Anyone has leave to do anything they wish with you, in this place_. He could not decide which retort would dismay Yasunosuke more, so in the end he said nothing.

They faced each other in silence for some time. Propping himself up even a little was still no small task for Kichi. Yasunosuke’s hands were curled into fists on his knees, and the light from the lamp highlighted the tendons of his neck, the curve of his skull. His hair was growing back thickly, though it would be some time before it could reach even Kichi’s current length.

As impossible as it was for them to avoid each other completely in the confines of the house, Kichi had only very rarely had the opportunity to study Yasunosuke so closely. Perhaps he had not done so since that afternoon two months earlier, the one that had opened this strange new chapter in Kichi’s life.

 _He can have his revenge for that day now, if he wants. I am weakened, and there is no one around to interfere._ In his exhausted state, the idea brought Kichi only the dullest twinge of fear. But no, it was easy enough to see that Yasunosuke had no such ambitions, even now.

“Why do you hate me?” Yasunosuke asked suddenly.

Kichi’s immediate instinct was to argue – but that was impossible, of course.

Yasunosuke seemed to take his silence for denial all the same. “I’m sure I didn’t know you before – “ He hesitated, for just a moment. “ – Before I came here. You asked about my family, back then – is that it?”

Kichi jerked away from him. A snarl like that of a wounded dog was building in his throat, the same painful memories yanked into the forefront of his mind yet again. Yasunosuke did not seem to notice.

“My father has made many enemies, I know…“

“You-!” It should have pleased Kichi, to hear even Lord Takenaga’s own son acknowledge his low character, and yet Yasunosuke spoke so straightforwardly, so _calmly_ , that it maddened him all the more. He took a breath that did not settle him nearly enough, and forced his lips into a sneer. “But of course, _my lord_ ,” he spat. “How could one – how could one such as I have anything to do with your family?” What had he come to, to speak as if he was so far below Yasunosuke?

“Asahi told me that you were not so ill-tempered before I came here.” It was unpleasantly clear that Kichi’s anger had very little effect on Yasunosuke now.

“Asahi will get far in life if he ever manages to think even half the time his tongue wags.”

Yasunosuke affected a look of aloof disapproval. “Petty insults are the weapon of one of poor character and poor upbringing.”

“Not a word against _my_ upbringing, Takenaga.”

“So this _is_ about my family.” Yasunosuke sounded almost triumphant.

Kichi longed for the strength to rise and slap him. “And a fine family they are,” he hissed. “With their son earning such a fine, fine position for himself.”

Yasunosuke drew himself up, stung at last. “I chose this for myself!” he snapped.

Kichi’s mouth opened, and then closed again. Color had risen once more on Yasunosuke’s cheeks, but the look on his face as he stared back at Kichi was fiercer than anything Kichi had seen from him for the entire evening.

“What do you mean?” Kichi asked, at last.

Yasunosuke had begun to twist away from him, his brow furrowed unhappily, but even now the lord’s son would not walk away from Kichi, or deny anything that he had said. “We needed money,” he admitted quietly. “And I had become a man, but – but I am still not so old, and I had no real position yet…” He swallowed, before concluding forlornly: “It seemed as if it would work well enough, at the time.”

It would have been a fine opportunity to gloat, to shoot back _So, you_ were _eager to make a slut of yourself, were you?_ But Kichi’s lips would not move.

“I have two sisters still unmarried, and my brothers have young children.” Yasunosuke continued. The words came quickly now, as if his mouth was just as disobedient as Kichi’s. “I could not let any of them be sent to some place like this, where they would be treated cruelly.” His eyes slid towards Kichi, for just a moment.

“Why – why send anyone?” Kichi blurted out before he could stop himself. “Why was that the only way?” It was one thing for a desperate peasant family to sell a child, but Kichi could not believe that the Takenaga clan had been reduced to such sheer destitution, not when Yasunosuke had come to the house still well-fed and well-dressed. _Is seeing children ripped from their homes and sold to whorehouses a pastime of your father’s?_ he almost asked, but here, thankfully, he was able to catch himself.

Yasunosuke’s lips quirked into what Kichi was startled to realize was a faint, dry, smile. “It is shocking, isn’t it?” he said. “But that is my father’s way. He will take care of himself, even if it is his own flesh and blood that he has to trample underfoot as he does it. And my brothers will say nothing against him. And no one will listen to what _I_ say, of course.” He shook his head. “I’m sure he was displeased with how little money I brought us when I came here, but no more than that.”

Kichi still could not find his voice. To think of a lord – of _anyone_ – sunken to such levels of heartlessness… Kichi’s mind reeled at the idea of it, even after half a lifetime spent cursing Lord Takenaga’s name. “That – that is monstrous,” he managed at last.

For a moment, Yasunosuke seemed faintly startled by the words, by Kichi’s very presence. “Yes,” he agreed softly at last, the same rueful smile still playing about his lips.

He climbed to his feet suddenly, as if preparing to leave at last, but in the end he moved no more than that. Heavy footfalls thundered towards and past the door, without slowing – yet another man, it was quite obvious that in every other room of the house, the night still carried on as usual – and Kichi saw Yasunosuke’s head nervously jerk towards the sound of it. _He has stayed here with me so long because he does not want to have to go out among the guests once more,_ Kichi realized.

“…So.“ Indeed, Yasunosuke seemed to have decided to keep talking to Kichi after all. “I won’t be surprised if you have some reason to hate my family, really.” He tilted his head slightly, puzzled. “But I still don’t know what that reason could be. Why don't you tell me?"

“I…” Kichi had forgotten himself, gotten so caught up in Yasunosuke’s story that he had lost sight of what lay between them. Now it crowded around the edges of his consciousness once more, threatening to drown him. “There – there is no reason,” he lied. “I don’t know your family.”

“ _Kichi_.” Yasunosuke sounded no more than _exasperated,_ even as he spoke of his father’s wrongdoings, of the lives that the man had ruined. Wrong, all of this was wrong, not at all the way that Kichi had ever imagined this conversation going. “I have eyes and ears. It’s obvious.”

“I _don’t_.” The futon suddenly felt far too open, too exposed. Even in the sweltering summer air, Kichi longed for a heavy blanket, for something to cover him so that he would not have to bear the curious look that Yasunosuke gave him now. 

“Who are you outside of this place?” Yasunosuke persisted. “You – are you from that village of farmers in the valley? The one that my father –“

“I am not a _farmer!_ ” Kichi’s ancestors had once been recorded back by generation upon generation, each just as fine as the one before it. All destroyed now, remembered not even by the son of the very man responsible.

“What, then?”

A strange, poisonous energy had begun to course through Kichi’s veins, enough that he found he could brace his hands beneath him and rise to his knees, and then to his feet. As he closed the space between them, Yasunosuke set his jaw, but did not try to back away.

“I thought that you were scared to speak to me,” Kichi rasped at him.

“I want to know!” Yasunosuke insisted. “I want to know why you treat me like this, why you – why you did that to me when I came here!”

“You should not have come to this place.” Each word made Kichi’s throat ache, made him hate Yasunosuke all the more.

“I told you, I had little choice!“

What a fool the lord’s son was, a fool or a liar. Of course he had made a choice, while Kichi – while plenty of others had found themselves dragged to the doors of the house scarcely knowing what lay in store for them.

He had drawn close enough now that he could make full use of the small advantage in height he held against Yasunosuke, uncaring how his legs shook. “You may go find Asahi and cry to him about it, if it saddens you so. Not to me.”

“Asahi doesn’t have anything to do with – “

Yasunosuke had been taken aback. Kichi seized at this as he once been taught to seize at a flaw in the way that his teacher held a wooden practice sword.

“Oh, do tell me,” he hissed, leaning in closer still. “Do Asahi’s guests play with you while they wait for him to arrive? Do you spread yourself so that Asahi can shave you, just like –?”

He was flying backwards before he fully understood what had happened – Yasunosuke had grabbed at him, and shoved. So strong was the lord’s son that Kichi stumbled back over the futon with no time for his unsteady legs to give out beneath him, until at last his shoulders slammed against the wall. Yasunosuke held him there, one hand fisted tightly in the front of Kichi’s kimono.

“You-!” The look on face was one that Kichi could scarcely recall seeing before, even on that day two months ago. The sight filled Kichi with a kind of breathless excitement, even as Yasunosuke pressed him further still against the wall, and his other hand curled into a tight fist.

But no blow came. Yasunosuke shuddered, and then in the next moment he was stepping away, releasing his hold on Kichi. Kichi’s legs failed him at last, and he slid to the floor even as he struggled to stay standing, to grab at Yasunosuke.

Yasunosuke stared down at him, his face still flushed with anger. “Say what you want,” he said to Kichi at last, each word tight and low. “I have endured worse. I will do what I must here, and I will not...I will not be eaten up by spite. Not even for you.”

“ _Takenaga Yasunosuke!”_ Kichi snarled. “I will -!” He would claw the boy’s eyes out; he would choke him until he could no longer babble such feeble, stupid things. It did not matter that Kichi was ill and weak, and that Yasunosuke had lived as a warrior until only two months earlier, Kichi would show him that he would not be looked down upon –

If anything, the look in Yasunosuke’s eyes seemed only to soften, very slightly. “You know, you are the only one here who calls me by my true name,” Kichi heard him say, over the sound of his own ragged breath and pounding heartbeat. “I am grateful to you for that, at least.”

He said no more before turning to leave at last, quite unhurried.

“Come in here again while I still live and I will kill you!” Kichi shouted after him, with as much force as his lungs could manage. The only reply was the sound of the door sliding shut.

It was some time before the poison coursing in Kichi’s blood began to ebb, and he could tear his attention away from the door and drag himself slowly back onto the futon. His body trembled and ached worse than ever, as if Yasunosuke had laid a curse on him in addition to everything else. He fell onto his side and curled in upon himself, his chest heaving.

His body had just started to relax when he heard the sound of the door sliding open again.

“I am not yet dead,” warned Kichi, his throat burning.

When he turned to look, he found one of the newest, youngest boys standing in the doorway, looking alarmed.

Kichi pushed himself up once more, fighting back the urge to groan. “What do you want?” he snapped.

“Asahi sent me,” the boy stuttered. He was an even more recent arrival to the house than Yasunosuke, no older than perhaps twelve or thirteen. Kichi, who had concerned himself with the others even less than usual for the past several weeks, could not recall the boy’s name.

“To throw my carcass out for the street cleaners to dispose of?”

“N-no…” The boy sounded as if he wondered whether he should apologize to Kichi for disappointing him. He produced a teapot and a cup, and brandished them in Kichi’s direction. “To bring you this to drink, and to tell you to rest for the rest of the night. And to tell you that he will take care of things if anyone wonders where you are.”

“Oh?” Hardly an overwhelming show of generosity, and yet Kichi was sure that the next time their paths crossed, Asahi would expect to be treated as if he was the very Lord Buddha himself. He could walk out of here now, show Asahi that he needed no such pity… But no, even as the urge crossed his mind he knew that he would surely only collapse again, and make a further spectacle of himself, and gain even more of the Master’s displeasure.

 _I will not be eaten up by spite._ Yasunosuke’s words bubbled unpleasantly to the surface of his thoughts, making him shudder. Such airs the foul lord’s son put on, even in his current pathetic state. When Kichi was well again, he would surely…

…He would think about it later. Kichi lay down once more. “Very well,” he directed the young boy, who was still frozen in the doorway. “Bring it here, and then you can leave.”

The boy did as he was told. Kichi rubbed distractedly at his aching head as he listened to the soft sound of footsteps, the _clink_ of the teapot’s spout against the rim of the cup. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the boy attending to his task with feverish concentration. He snuck a nervous glance in Kichi’s direction, and started when he noticed Kichi watching him, so that some of the tea fell upon the floor. “Oh!”

“Here.” Before the spill could sink in, Kichi reached out to dab at it with the sleeve of his own kimono. The fabric was dark enough that it would not show a stain, and such things hardly mattered to him now anyway, after all that had happened that evening. “It’s nothing.”

The boy had flinched when Kichi raised his hand, and even now he stared at Kichi wide-eyed, as if expecting him to lunge at him. At last, he held the cup up for Kichi to take. “H-here you are, sir!”

 _You do not need to call me that,_ Kichi wanted to say, but he could sense all too clearly that it would only make the boy more flustered. Instead, he took the cup, and sipped. The taste was the same as the tea he had licked from his wrist in his attempt to entice Tatsurou, and he set the cup back down beside the futon without drinking any more.

The boy had snatched up the teapot, looking eager to escape.

“What is your name?” Kichi found himself asking.

The boy started once again. “My name? Hide – “ He caught himself, biting at his lip guiltily. “…Kou, sir.”

“Kou. I see.” A striking name, and easy to remember. Guests would surely find it quite charming. The tea had not done any good at all – Kichi’s chest ached savagely, so that even drawing breath was a struggle.

He shifted, and felt something small and hard press against his side. Reaching inside his kimono, he found Yasunosuke’s _netsuke_ , as well as Tatsurou’s seal. He could remember now - he had tucked them away when he had first heard the commotion with Yasunosuke and the others. He had somehow managed not to lose them, through his fainting and all the rest of it.

Kou was backing minutely towards the door, already too well-trained to turn and leave entirely without being excused. The same whim that had made Kichi ask for his name made him reach out towards the boy. “Here.”

Kou halted reluctantly, but a hint of real curiosity stirred in his eyes as he saw the things in Kichi’s hand. “Sir?” he asked.

Kichi pushed his hand even further forward. “You can have them.”

“What are they? Where did you…?”

“Have them,” Kichi repeated. When Kou still hesitated, apprehension once again falling across his face, he added. “If anyone asks where you got them, you can tell them I gave them to you.” He did not think that anyone would care very much, but even if they did – well, perhaps the Master would beat him, or cut his hair even shorter. Or do whatever else he wished. Kichi could not find the energy to worry about it much now.

“I can’t.” Kou’s eyes darted about nervously, though he was trying very hard to speak steadily and politely. “It’s – it’s much too fine for me, thank you sir, but I can’t –“

Kichi took back the seal – he would burn it later, or bury it in the garden, he would deal with it somehow – but thrust Yasunosuke’s tiny lucky god back at the boy once more. “Just this one, then. Take it!”

Kou flinched yet again, and Kichi hurried to lower his voice. “You don’t even have to keep it, if you don’t want to.” A part of him knew that he was being ridiculous now – the fever clouding his mind, surely – and yet he could not stop. “Sell it, and use the money however you want. You’d like more food than they give you here, wouldn’t you?” Kou was so young, still growing – Kichi could remember – “The nights are warm now, but you - you will want plenty of scarves and blankets soon enough - “

“I can’t!” Kou shook his head, panicked. His voice trembled. “F-forgive me sir, may I please go now?”

Kichi gave up and let his hand drop down to rest on the floor. “Yes, go.”

The boy went, pausing only long enough to make one lightening-fast bow in Kichi’s general direction and to close the door behind him.

The lamp had already begun to fade, and soon enough it would go dark entirely. The cup of tea still sat by the futon, but when Kichi took another sip of it he found it tepid and bitter.

He lay back down, and shut his eyes. His hand moved as if on its own to slide the seal and the _netsuke_ back into the folds of his kimono – but that was good enough, it was right to hide them until he could decide what he would do with them. He would dispose of them tomorrow, perhaps, early in the morning before too many of the others were up and about. But first, he would sleep.

The voices of the guests and the boys still hummed distantly from elsewhere in the house, and he felt their footsteps in the floor beneath him.

**Author's Note:**

> If you made it all the way to the end, thank you for indulging me not just once but twice lol. 
> 
> I still think that The Way of Things stands alone well, but writing about Kichi and Yasunosuke under slightly different circumstances was interesting for me, and I hope that reading it was interesting as well. 
> 
> I put together a few more notes as well as some reference pics for things mentioned in this story [on Dreamwidth](https://sattsuma.dreamwidth.org/512.html), fyi!


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